


Invasive

by PaperThinRevolutionary (SingFortissimo)



Series: King's College [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: John is a dumb and i do not recommend following his lead., Poor Life Choices, Poor Self Care, Smoking, Violence, i mean i guess its kinda graphic idk, its up to you to decide, just covering my bases here, negativity, unconventional self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingFortissimo/pseuds/PaperThinRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a list of poor self-care strategies that he relies on when he gets in a bad headspace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invasive

**Author's Note:**

> this holds no mandatory spot in KCS, and you can skip this if you would like, no hard feelings.

John didn’t know what the fuck had gotten into him, honestly. But he was fucking tired of it. And he wanted it to go away. It always seemed to strike him completely out of the blue, and he hated it more than anything in the world. 

It wasn’t like he had a bad day, no. He had spent the majority of it with Alexander before his boyfriend had to run off for student legislature and debate club. Lafayette had been busy that evening, and John already had all of his homework done. He had no work to do, no extracurriculars, nothing.   Just the crushing feeling in his chest that he was going to be sick, and that something was wrong. 

 He had tried everything that he could possibly think of to make it go away. He did what he usually did, take a long, slow walk around campus; nothing. Listen to his favorite music; nothing. Journalling; nothing. In fact, every activity he tried made his chest tighter, the indescribable weight on it became heavier, and the lump in his throat constricted his breathing more and more. 

He wasn’t panicking, he could tell that much. He handled his panic much differently. Panic didn't feel this way.

He wasn’t upset about anything in particular, as earlier observed it had been a rather Good Day. There was nothing that possibly could have triggered him into this fucking downward spiral that was consuming his existence and choking the life out of him. 

So he went for his first Last Resort.

He changed into an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling his hair back into a tight ponytail, and slipping on an old pair of sneakers. The burn in his lungs had already started to fade, so he pocketed only his key to the building and his room, then left quickly. 

He followed the same path he took on his walk, running until the burn in his lungs was enough to make him stop and lean against a tree for support. 

Last Resort #1 wasn’t helping. He still had that feeling in his stomach, that pressure on his chest and that suffocating knot in his throat. He kicked at the dirt beneath his feet and spat out a string of profanities in various languages, until he screamed one at the top of his lungs into the empty courtyard. 

No help, yet again. Of course. 

He still felt sick, angry. Not himself. He hated it so goddamn much. 

So onto Last Resort #2 for John. 

He ran the rest of the way back to his room, then dug around in his things and pulled back with a beaten up pack of Camel Crushes.   Fiddling with one of the cigarettes in one hand, he popped the little bead while he searched for the lighter with the other. He could already smell the menthol.  
 He smiled, but it felt tight and fake still, even as a natural reaction.   Oh well. 

He immersed himself in the scent.

On days like this, he liked the extra little burn the menthol left lingering. 

He tucked the cigarette behind his ear and pocketed his lighter, and without much thought, the rest of the pack, then hurried downstairs to find the smoking area outside of the building. 

 He lit the cigarette before he got there and sucked in a long, slow drag and relished in the burn it left behind in his throat and lungs. 

He held it as long as he could. It had been a while since he had gotten to this point. It didn’t seem to help. 

One cigarette became three, became the rest of the pack, and John didn’t feel a goddamn bit better. He tried to take out some of his anger when he smashed out the smoldering butts under his heel, but it didn’t help at all. 

One more down the checklist. 

Last Resort #3 in his 10 Resort Plan before he had to do something serious about it. 

Usually, even on the worst of days where #1 failed, one cigarette had him calm enough to feel better. 

So he just carried on down his list. He didn’t bother going back upstairs, just jogged his way to the campus gym and inside, going straight for something that was sure to help. 

It wasn’t long until John had squared up in front of one of the punching bags in the back of the gym, and ruthlessly went at it, ducking and weaving just to keep a good form. Despite his efforts, this didn’t seem to be doing much either, beyond ripping his knuckles to absolute shit.

He carried on with this for a little less than half an hour before he had to pull back and wash the blood and grit away from his wounds, but before he could, a sudden wave of anger, hatred, he didn’t even _know_ anymore what this was, crashed over him and he just… 

 Screamed. 

 And he whipped around and shot his fist into the first thing he saw, as hard as he could. 

And he was met with a sickening crunch and a flash of red, which brought him to his knees. 

When John snapped back to his reality, he remembered that it wasn’t a good idea to try and put his fist through a brick wall. 

But here was was, on his knees, gripping his right wrist with his left and looking at his shattered hand, spilling profanities as well as new and fresh tears. 

 At least now he had a reason to cry.

His last major thought before the pain took over his mind?

 

Alexander would be so upset.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys i just had to kinda  
> get this out. it's how i feel right now and i had to make john suffer so i wouldn't do something stupid to myself  
> thanks for sticking through,  
> until next time with some hopefully happy content,  
> -krys


End file.
